


Constellations

by lellabeth



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty needs a hug, Insecurity, M/M, Pining, Sad with a Happy Ending, boys who are bad with feelings, lord the PINING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lellabeth/pseuds/lellabeth
Summary: Every inch of him is tuned into every line of Jack. He feels him when he’s close, his heart pounding in his chest, and he feels the pull of it when he’s far away. He feels so much, all of the time, and he runs himself ragged trying not to let any of it show.





	1. Chapter 1

Jack has three freckles buried in the curve of his neck. They nestle against his skin, cinnamon-soft, like muted stars in a twilight sky. They fade to almost nothing in the winter, just one last fingerprint of summer lingering on Jack’s skin, but as soon as the sun comes out, they bloom and blossom into something beautiful.

Everything about Jack is beautiful. 

Bitty wants to kiss those three little dots, cover them with his mouth, press his lips to them as he whispers three little words. They form a circle, somehow. Bitty thinks it used to be something harder, more angular and harsh, but they’ve seemed softer since Bitty’s got to know Jack. The whole world has seemed softer.

Sometimes, in bed at night, Bitty thinks of the light Jack brings into his life. People think Jack is rude or robotic, and sometimes he can be colder than the ice at the rink, but deep inside, he’s got the warmest heart of anyone Bitty’s ever met outside of his family. Jack’s just careful with it, and Bitty thinks maybe he’s guarding it from gaining any more scars. Jack is caring words in a clipped tone; calloused tenderness in the hand he offers time after time during checking practice. 

Bitty has moments where he wonders if the persona Jack shows the world is actually who he is underneath it all, whether his rose-tinted heart has colored his eyes and made him see what he chooses to. But then there are times like Jack walking to the library in the middle of January so Bitty wouldn’t have to trudge home alone in the dark, or a Starbucks cup showing up outside his room in the middle of finals, filled with a drink he’s mentioned loving only to Jack.

Those freckles are a sign that Jack is real, almost. That he isn’t just a perfect figure Bitty had dreamed up one lonely night, desperate and suffocating inside himself. It should be a comfort.

Instead, it’s a reminder — that Bitty is lovesick for a boy with a constellation written on his skin. That Bitty is just one person, flawed and terrified, and Jack is made of whole galaxies.  
  
It’s a reminder that Jack will never, ever love him back.


	2. Chapter 2

Bitty barely remembers when he fell in love with Jack. It feels like a paradox; he’d fallen in love Jack slowly, like the long minutes of a sunrise where everything moves from grey to pink to golden, but it also feels like it had happened all at once, without him noticing.

And now — now he can’t stop noticing, no matter how much he wishes he could.

Every inch of him is tuned into every line of Jack. He feels him when he’s close, his heart pounding in his chest, and he feels the pull of it when he’s far away. He feels so _much_ , all of the time, and he runs himself ragged trying not to let any of it show.

To Jack, he’s just Bittle — scraping by on the team, the one who gets a lucky shot every now and again, weirdly obsessed with baking. It’s nothing he hasn’t been thought of as before, but considering Jack might think of him in those ways makes his insides feel like ash. He wants Jack to know him in a way that no one else does. He wants Jack to see the rusted veins, the bruise-dappled underbelly inside. He wants Jack to see it all, to know it all, and to love him through it.

He wants and wants and _wants_ , but he never gets anything more than flashes. Jack touching his shoulder after a game, Jack ruffling his hair when they’re all watching TV, Jack’s soft smile when Bitty sings along to XO. He tries to grasp on to those moments, but they’re grains of sand slipping through his fingers.

Shitty knows, of course. Bitty’s sure his face gives him away whenever he looks at Jack for too long. It was a matter of time. Bitty had been caught up by Jack after a game; wrapped in strong, warm arms, he’d wished for it never to end so badly his stomach hurt. When Jack let go, Bits had turned his head and caught Shitty’s wide eyes, and he’d known then that time had finally caught up with him. He’d done nothing more than smiled - and he could feel the sad edge of it even now - and skated away. Shitty was too kind to ever give Bitty’s secret away, but it left Bitty feeling embarrassed and exposed all the same.

A few weeks back, when the university’s facebook page lit up with posts about Jack being spotted having dinner with a girl, Bitty’s heart had dropped to the floor and shattered like cheap glass. He had silently left the games room and dragged himself to his bed, collapsing in it and crying - for lost opportunities, for his lack of courage, for how much he _hurt_ everywhere. It had only been a few minutes when he heard the creak of a door and felt the dip of the bed behind him. He felt Shitty’s arm wrap around his shaking body, felt fingers stroking through his hair, and he’d cried until his throat was closed over.

He’d decided then and there, in the dark of his bedroom, cradled by the only person who knew his secret, that he’d let things go on for too long.

Enough was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

The first week of winter break, Bitty doesn’t speak to Jack at all. Georgia is cold in December, and the frost matches his mood well. His mother doesn’t ask, but he knows she can sense the heartbreak all over him. She lets him rest his head on her shoulder for hours as they sit together. When her hand clasps his, he clings tight.

He texts with the other guys, and he misses them all terribly. He misses Ransom and the times Bitty wakes to Ransom cuddling up to him, or how Rans starts a fight with anyone who singles Bitty out in a match. He misses Holster and the look on his face whenever Bitty makes him lemon tarts. He misses Lardo and the way he sometimes catches her checking his shelf of the fridge, like she’s got a mental checklist of all the meals he’s eating (she probably has). He misses the Haus and even the shitty oven that works solely on the power of prayer. He misses Samwell, the first place he’d felt accepted fully, and he misses his team, the first people to love him without being obligated to do so.

He misses Jack, and it feels like the fierce sting of a broken bone.

Which is why when he gets a text from Jack the day before he’s scheduled to fly back to Samwell, it knocks the breath clean out of his chest.

He opens it with fumbling fingers, reads it once and then twice.

_Hi, Bits. Hope you’ve had a good break and spent some time with your family. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Fly safe. Jack_

Bitty puts his phone down and continues packing his things, and he does _not_ think about that message.

Not even a little.


	4. Chapter 4

When he arrives back at the Haus, it’s to big smiles and bigger hugs. There are beers on the kitchen table, along with some deathly-looking punch he will definitely not be drinking. The music is happy and loud and the good vibes are infectious. He accepts the hard lemonade he’s offered and drinks most of it in one long pull, cheered on by his friends all around him.

By the time he stumbles on to the porch two hours later, he is definitely more tipsy than he meant to be. He’s not drunk, though, just enough to blur things around the edges slightly. He stares at the front yard that Chowder meticulously maintains for hours on end, and he’s overwhelmed with how right it feels to be here. Georgia will always be his home, but he thinks maybe this is his home now too, and that feels good in a way not many things have.

He’s still smiling to himself when someone comes to sit down next to him. He leans into them without thought, but he turns his head as he feels them stiffen for a second.

And stares right into the sky-blue eyes of Jack Zimmermann.

He bites his lip and feels the burn of a blush steal into his cheeks as he sits up straight. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jack says, and he sounds almost… frustrated, maybe. It’s not the anger that colors his voice after a bad game, but there’s definitely a sharp note to it.

Bitty decides to say nothing back. He plays with the frayed hem of his jeans and ignores that his mama would tap at his fingers if she saw him doing it. The bass is just about audible outside, along with the distant sound of traffic. It helps the silence between him and Jack feel less loaded. He wants to speak, but he doesn’t know what to say, then Jack speaks and Bitty has zero chance of forming words at all.

“How come you don’t want to touch me?”

Like this, Jack’s voice is less perfect, more lilting, and Bitty wonders whether it’s the proximity or the alcohol causing it.

Bitty swallows hard. “What makes you say that?”

Jack breathes out so deeply, Bitty can hear it. “You about scrambled across the porch to get away once you realized it was me, just then. You don’t hug me after games. You don’t touch my shoulder when you walk past, and you don’t put a hand on the back of my head when you serve pie. You don’t curl into my side like you were made to be there whenever we share a couch. You touch the others like it’s your native language, but you refuse to touch me, Eric, and I guess I just want to know why”.

It’s the most he’s heard Jack say at once. He blinks, tries to process it all. “I’m… sorry?”

“No,” Jack replies instantly. “Don’t be sorry for not wanting to touch me, _Crisse_. I just want to know what I’ve done to make you dislike me so much.” His voice wavers a little at the end, and something inside Bitty’s chest burns.

“Jack…” He’s speaking so, so softly, but he can’t help himself. “I don’t dislike you. Not at all.”

Jack laughs, splitting and brash. He turns back, and the sight of tears shining at the edges of his eyes is a gut-punch. They unlock the cage of Bitty’s mouth and the words spill out before he can stop them.

“I like you too much.”

Jack doesn’t react for a few seconds. When he does, his look of confusion almost makes Bitty cry. The almost-surreal gleam of it makes Bitty feel weary, makes him feel like a lifetime of exhaustion just caught up with him. It makes his tight hold on it all feel like too much to bear.

So he lets go.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, ignoring the way Jack goes statue-still in his periphery. “I’ve been terrified you’d find out, so I’ve been keeping my distance. I knew if I let you see that I loved you even a little, I wouldn’t be able to hold anything back, and you’d find out.”

Jack doesn’t seem to even breathe for long seconds. “And that would be bad?”

Bitty shakes his head, but he’s not refuting it. Not even close. “Unrequited love is only cute in movies.”

Jack shifts slightly. “I didn’t know about any of this.”

Bitty does not laugh at that, but it’s a close thing. How can Jack not _know_? How can Bitty look at Jack like he’s the sun, every minute he’s around, and Jack think for even a second that Bitty dislikes him?

“I’ve been in love with you for months, Jack. I think you’re the only one who doesn’t know, at this point.”

Jack drops his head forward, staring resolutely at his knees. Bitty wonders if Jack’s are shaking as badly as his.

“Being in love is supposed to make you happy.” The way Jack says it, like it’s his personal failing that makes Bitty so sad to be in love with him… it turns Bitty’s stomach.

“Being in love makes you happy when the other person loves you back.” Tears slip from the edges of his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away. He’s spent months crying his heart out, and for what?

Jack doesn’t say anything to that. Bitty didn’t expect him to, not really.

He should care that he’s bleeding out all over the porch, but he’s tired of lying by omission. He sighs, feeling like he’s exhaling particles of his soul into the wind. “I’m tired of all of this, Jack. Of feeling like you’d love me back if I was better at hockey or got better grades or dressed different. I’m tired of feeling like I need to be cuter or bigger or smarter or everything I’m not.” He closes his eyes. “I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough to love. I’m _tired_ , and now that everything is out in the open, I just want to try and... move on from it all, somehow.”

He can hear Jack’s throat click. “Move on?”

“Try to get over this. Try to stop wanting it so badly I can’t think of anything else, of _anyone_ else. Try to be your friend and have that be enough.” His heart is in tatters, so many they’ll never fit back together right. “Try to stop loving you.”

It’s a few minutes of strained silence before he feels trembling fingers cover his own. He opens his eyes and stares down at scarred knuckles. He looks at tears in fragile skin, at delicate bones and ragged cuticles, and he feels like he’s looking at a whole new side to Jack. When he looks up, Jack’s face is close to his.

“What if,” Jack says, voice hushed, shaking more than his hands. “What if it isn’t unrequited?”

Bitty doesn’t understand this, can’t even bring himself to contemplate all that Jack might mean. All he knows is that Jack’s fingers are curling around his hand, that Jack’s chapped lips are pressing against his cheek.

“Jack…” Bitty wants this, _God_ , he wants this more than he has ever wanted anything, but he needs to know he can have it. Really have it, not just the promise of it for one night before it’s ripped away. “Please don’t… if this is just once, or— or if you’re not sure, please don’t play with me.”

“Bitty, shh.” Jack’s lips press at the corner of his mouth. “What if I’m in love with you too?”

At that, Bitty turns his face so his lips are on Jack’s.

He kisses those words, tastes the raspberry-sweet of them, sugar-dusted and shimmering.

Jack kisses him again, or maybe it’s Bitty that starts it, but either way they don’t stop for a while.

“If this is a dream, I really don’t want to wake up,” Jack says quietly, and Bitty can hear the truth behind it.

“It’s not a dream,” he replies, as much for his own benefit as Jack’s. “It’s not a dream.”

Jack presses the tip of his nose against Bitty’s. “It feels like one.”

Bitty looks at the love shining out of Jack’s face like moonbeams. He kisses him again. “It feels like all of them.”

“Yeah,” Jack says softly. “Like every last one coming true.”

They have a lot to talk about, but not now. Now he just wants to feel the gentle hand Jack’s running through his hair and the warm press of Jack’s body against his.

“I love you so much,” Jack whispers, like a vow, and Bitty has to duck his head so he doesn’t cry.

When he whispers his reply, it’s right into those three freckles, buried in the curve of Jack’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Nik, always. <3
> 
> thank you for reading! come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.lellabeth.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/lellabeth).


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